


359 Days Later

by catwesker



Series: All Those Days Later [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Complications, Family, Family Feels, Friendship, Fun, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catwesker/pseuds/catwesker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ace is curious to know some things personal about the phoenix and gets advice from the wrong people. Marco/Ace</p>
            </blockquote>





	359 Days Later

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my other story "327 Days Later", although it can also be read alone:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4071283

“What?” Thatch pauses scrubbing at his plates as the water continues to run from the tap.

“Well…?” Ace efficiently washes the many piles of dishes on his side as he peers sideways at Thatch, part shy part curious.

Thatch bursts into a hearty laugh which Ace immediately tries to hush. Luckily for him, there’s no one else left in the kitchen.

“So  _that’s_  why you suggested this little contest eh?” Thatch grins evidently and elbows him in the ribs. “Baby brother has a motive!”

“Hey I mean it!” Ace continues to clear his plates at a competitive speed, not planning to lose this regardless.

Thatch resumes with his dishes, not allowing the momentary pause to ruin his match. “Winner gets a favor, no questions asked. Right.”

“Right,” Ace piles more dishes up to his side though many more still remain on the dozens of carts behind them. Nobody had believed him when Ace told them he’d take care of the dishes (with Thatch) for the day cause the number of people on Moby Dick is no joke. If anything, they use this for punishment in trivial games so for someone to volunteer this he must be either drunk or insane.

“Hey you missed a spot,” Thatch grins.

“Did not,” Ace cleans it anyway.

“Did too,” Thatch carefully pushes his piles further in so there’s space for new piles. “And try not to break any or I’d have to dock it off your next loot.”

“You’re not answering, Thatch,” more than a teeny bit of impatience grows on Ace’s face.

Thatch laughs again, softer this time, and then sighs with a little shake of his head, “Ah… youth.”

“Well…?”

“No Ace, I don’t know if Marco’s got a girlfriend.”

“But how could you not know?” His brows spell doubt. “You’ve known him for a long time.”

“I’ve known him for a long time but that don’t mean I know which side of his ass he sits on.”

Ace pauses, his face a funny blend of confusion and bewilderment.

“Point is, I don’t know.” Thatch pulls over the next cart behind him. “I’ve never asked and he’s never mentioned. You know him. He’s not exactly the most talkative person on this ship.”

“Then…” Ace mumbles slightly, paying much attention to the dishes ahead of him. “Has he ever gone with you when you visit the…”

“The…?”

“…You know…” He may hide the red on his freckles but his ears are giving it away just as easily.

“Brothel?” Thatch has to see the look on the boy for this one, and sure enough the younger one has his face crunched up at the mention of where-it-must-not-be-named. “Hahaha!!” He ignores that his hands are wet and smacks Ace’s back zealously. “You’re so adorable!”

“What??” Ace has seen this coming but he can’t help but feel just a little annoyed at what a big deal Thatch always seems to make it sound like.

“He’s walked there with us, on occasion, but,” he assures the younger boy with a squeeze of his shoulder. “He’s never gone in,” he pauses to recall. “I think.”

Ace raises a brow, “You _think_?”

“Aye,” Thatch resumes with his task, mentally noting the number of carts left. “You can’t blame a man for turning his brain off once he arrives at the B.”

Ace rolls his eyes, but he appreciates the guy censoring the term. It’s not offensive on a personal level, but there’s just something about the idea of a place where women are gathered just for…  _urgh_.

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“Huh?” Ace returns from a momentary space-out.

“I know the guy’s a bag of mystery candies you can’t wait to unfold, but my guess’s as good as any.”

“Well, it’s a pretty personal question…” Ace doesn’t realize that he’s starting to fiddle with his plates.

“It sure isn't stopping you from asking me,” Thatch settles many more dishes skilfully. “Tell ya what.”

Ace perks up, hopeful for some reason.

“How ‘bout you have a lil’ chat with Izou?” Thatch flashes him a cheeky grin. “If there’s an expert on this in the family, it’s him.”

Ace blinks at him, seeing as to how it seems probable.

“Also,” Thatch turns off the tap and proudly presents the heaps of cleaned dishes on the counter and carts around him, grinning ear to ear. “I win.”

_Well… Shit._

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Alright, chop chop, fess up. Who’re you in love with?” Izou looks at Ace seriously with one hand placed on the edge of the table and the other tapping it.

They’re in his room, the first time Ace has actually been in it, and the interior is all wanokuni’ish with tatami mats, futon cushions, oriental paintings and the like. The table they’ve gathered around is a short tea table hence most would sit with their legs crossed or, if they're familiar, in seiza. However, despite being a well-mannered person of a certain class this time Izou is sitting with one knee up, much to Ace’s surprise.

“Wha…?” Ace gulps, intimidated.

“Well??” Izou leans in further against the table. “Who is it?”

“It’s not what you think,” Ace sweatdrops. “I just have a curious question that’s all.” He could feel Izou’s eyes observing him. “It’s about Marco.”

“Oh,” Izou’s softens his expression into that of amusement and curiosity. He puts down his leg and shifts into seiza. “What about Marco?”

“I’m just curious to know if…” Ace scratches his own knee under the table.

“Baby brother wants to know if the bird’s taken,” Thatch pokes his head out of a hatch in the floor.

“Thatch?” Ace narrows his eyes at the guy who’s comfortably taking a seat between them. It’s only been a short while since their contest in the kitchen ended. “Why are you here?”

“I asked him to join,” Izou replies in his stead. “In case you're not willing to be honest.”

Ace blinks at the both of them, suddenly unsure what he's getting himself into.

“So Marco,” Izou sighs, seeming as if he’s struggling to put his next words together. “It just had to be him.”

Ace is not sure if that's good or bad news but he sees that Thatch is listening intently as well, which possibly means it’s a story even he has not heard of. And so he keeps quiet and listens on.

“Do you know of Foodvalten,” Izou asks him. Ace shakes his head.

“It’s one of many islands under Pops’ name in the New World. A few years ago we landed there and drove out the other pirates who were pillaging the villagers. Their nasty captain wasn't pleased, naturally, so he threatened to kill a lady. Marco dove in to save her.”

Izou pauses for a moment for Q&A but there’s none and so he continues. “We stayed there for some weeks after that- how long was it again?”

“Three weeks,” Thatch adds.

“Right,” Izou nods at Thatch to show his appreciation. “We made sure those bastards didn't come back and that everyone else knew the island’s marked with our flag. In those few weeks we did what we could to help the people. Marco spent much of his time with the lady, and she was certainly not shy to express her feelings for him. So we asked him if he liked her, but Marco being Marco, he easily brushed it off.”

Ace pays full attention, though he’s not quite sure what to think of this.

“But I saw something,” Izou pauses for dramatic effect. Ace blinks at him, awaiting the continuation. “Two nights before we left the island, I was up on the hills gathering some local flowers for my humble…” he gestures to the floral decorations in his room, “…décor. And I saw him with the girl, exchanging rings under a tree. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but the girl was tearing…and then they kissed.”

Without turning his head Thatch eyes Ace who’s sitting right beside him and notices that he’s been staring ahead at Izou, completely silent.

“The next morning I asked Marco about the lady but he avoided the question. I noticed he had the ring on, even though he tried to hide it from me. But after we sailed on I never saw him wear it again.”

“That dude’s so damn secretive, even with his best bros,” Thatch sighs.

Ace has blanked out by then, and he doesn't even know that he has, until moments later when a loud burst of laughter erupts from the other two. Thatch is rolling on the floor while Izou’s hugging his tummy, banging a hand on the table.

“Wha--?” Ace stares at his two mates, coming to the realization. “You're joking???”

“I’m so-I’m so sorry,” Thatch continues to laugh.

“I couldn't help it, Ace. Please forgive me,” Izou manages to calm himself little and a bit of guilt rises within. “You’re so in love, I hope you realize that.”

Ace is stunned and baffled. How many times has he been had by this stupid chef ( _who_ ’s the stupid one?), and how many times have the lot of them embarrassed him, albeit in harmless ways (but Marco never does). And now even Izou, someone he’s not  _that_  close with at this point, is pulling his leg and saying his emotions are clear as day? Is he that transparent? Does... Marco know?

Unsure how he should react to this, he grabs a cushion, climbs over the laughing man on the floor and smacks him in the head repeatedly with it. “Dammit Thatch!” His face is flushed and he attacks Thatch with the soft thing mercilessly as if he can avoid admitting he’s glad this whole thing was a lie.

“Save me Izou!” Thatch covers his face with his hands, but Izou lets them be, knowing that it’ll only take the boy a little more time to cool down.

“Traitor!” Thatch shouts while successfully disarming Ace.

“WHAT TRAITOR?!” Jouzu suddenly barges in, half of him in diamond, frantically searching the room only to find the trio on the floor. 

"It's not what you think," Izou sweatdrops, holding a hand up.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

It took a few minutes to convince Jouzu that nothing was wrong. Still, it took some effort on the explaining side as Jouzu thought it possible for Ace to be fighting with the chef over food as Thatch always throws everything on his plate away whenever his sleeping disorder strikes,  and that's not even the worst domestic fight Moby Dick has seen.

"I'm beginning to wonder why I'm here in the first place," Ace huffs.

"You've come for advice and here's what I'm gonna tell you," Izou sits up straight, putting on his serious look. "What's important for you to know is not so much whether Marco's available, but what you'll do when you know it."

Ace blinks at him, suddenly not so sure what this whole thing is about. It all started with just a bit of curiosity (god knows why). It isn't supposed to mean anything, but that strange woozy feeling in his chest when he thought, albeit fooled, for a moment that Marco was married was one he can only describe as perturbed. "But you still didn't tell me anything."

"Honestly we don't know. There's only so much we can tell you and it's hardly relevant. What matters is the man's own words which…" Izou leans over and pokes a finger at Ace's collarbone. "…you should hear from yourself."

"You mean I should ask him this out-of-the-blue question?"

"You'll just have to make it inside-the-blue," Izou persists.

"But he might not--"

"Ace," Thatch interrupts. "You lost this afternoon."

"You mean the dish washing thing?" Ace wishes they hadn't done that. There're many other ways he could have talked to Thatch in private, he now realizes.

"Yeah, and that thing won me a favor." Thatch grins as he leans closer to the anticipating boy the same way as Izou. "So, would you do me the favor of doing yourself the favor of asking Marco what you asked me, or us, today?"

"What? That's cheating."

"A man bearing Whitebeard's mark on his back does not back out on his word," Thatch gives him that look. He knows he's won this, again.

"It's still cheating," Ace hugs the cushion tightly instead of sitting on it, hoping it'd save him from this dare. "I said that the winner gets a favor."

"No questions asked, no less." Thatch reiterates.

"But how's that a favor for yourself?" Ace eyes him.

"I wasn't kidding when I said the man has a low personal profile," Thatch rubs his goatee, resting his elbow on a knee.

"You're not the only one who's curious," Izou wraps his arms around Thatch's shoulders from behind, resting his chin on his head with a cheeky grin. Ace is quite certain these two rehearsed this.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The nurses have just switched out the IV drip and made sure that the old man took his pills when Marco greets him by his bedside. "How do you feel Pops?"

"I'm fine. You can stop asking me that everyday."

Marco smiles, content to know that the big guy still has it in him to quip even at this hour. "We'll be stopping by a spring island in three days to replenish your meds, among other things. Is there anything else that you need?"

"No…" The elder pirate drags the word out, his voice a tad dry. "The doctors will take care of it." He signals for the nurses to leave.

"…I receive word that some parts of town may be raided by assailants. I don't believe any big names are involved. Five split teams of thirty should be sufficient. Shall I proceed to prepare our men?" Marco looks to his captain for advice.

"You know the grounds better than I do now. There's no need to seek my approval for every matter, commander."

Marco nods lightly in acknowledgment, though he knows he'd still rather hear it from the captain than to take most things into his own hands.

"How's the young chap doing?"

"Ace?" Marco's a little surprised with the change of subject. He leans against the side of the tall bed. "He's doing well. You saw him in the day."

"I did, but that's just one side of him."

Marco pauses to think if there's anything specific that the old man wants to hear about. "He's getting along well with everyone. Each of us takes turns finding ways for him to burn all that energy." He smiles to himself as he recalls Vista's suggestion for Ace to work the engines part-time. "He can be reckless sometimes but he's an efficient fighter, even before the flames. He'll make you proud."

"Marco," Whitebeard sighs. "Do you know why I put him in your care?"

Marco doesn't answer, wondering instead if it's something he said that may have triggered this.

"You are one of the oldest members of this family. You've seen much growth and change in history and people, including me." He coughs a little.

"Pops..." Marco reaches out for the glass of water placed on the lamp table, but Whitebeard stops him.

"We are a big family and you always take the foremost responsibility in keeping every crew together, so much you don’t give yourself a break. The day will come when you’ll have to hold the reins but it is not my intent to impose it on you while I still live."

"Pops--" Marco isn’t particularly fond of this subject of conversation. It is not something they frequently speak of but he much prefers the illusion that the old man may just live as long as them all. He’s not ready to picture a future without him.

"You've forgotten how to have fun, my son." Whitebeard places his giant hand over Marco's, urging him to look at him in the eye. "I didn't put you in charge of Ace for you to train and make me proud. He's a brother I want you to have, one that is noisy enough to hopefully keep you away from  _work_ and closer to home."

Marco smiles at Whitebeard, acknowledging his intentions. He has never once thought any of this as work, but if this is the impression that he's giving even to his father perhaps something needs to change. “Ace is not work, I promise.”

Pleased, Whitebeard lets out a low laugh, “Good. I wouldn't imagine the disaster if anyone else were in charge."

Marco laughs softly along with him, slipping his hand out to squeeze the captain's in comfort. They stay in silence for a while until all you can hear is Whitebeard’s peaceful snore. Certain that the man has fallen asleep, Marco moves away quietly and turns the lights off by the door. “Good night Pops.”

He opens the door to leave when he finds himself greeted in the face with what appears to be twenty sticks of marshmallows, ten or more stuck in each stick. 

“Hey,” Ace flashes him a smile. “Is Pops still up?”

Marco is quick to put a finger to his lips, leaving the door half opened just so Ace can peek in to see the sleeping captain. “He's just gone to bed.”

“Aw man,” he pouts. “I thought he could have some of these. Thatch just made them. Look, there’s even chocolate!” He holds up his other hand that’s carrying a small bowl of melty goodness.

Marco smiles at the gesture. “I’ll take that.” He closes the door quietly behind him and steals a stick as he walks away.

“Hey that’s not yours,” Ace walks after him.

“Sugar’s off his diet,” Marco nonchalantly chews on his marshmallow.

“Just a little won’t kill him.” Ace pouts again.

The word twitches something inside but Marco knows he’s just being oversensitive. Brushing it off and changing the (his own) mood, he looks to the boy beside him and jests, “Not even you can try.”

Ace narrows his eyes and sighs. It's been 359 days and they still haven't let that go. He follows along quietly, not sure where Marco’s heading until he asks. “Is Pops alright?”

Marco blinks, “He’s fine. Why’d you ask?”

“I dunno,” Ace looks at him, pointing somewhere between the other guy’s brows. “It’s just, you have that look on your face.”

Marco slows down his footsteps, wondering for the first time if he wears his worries on his face cause as far as he’s concerned he’s confident he doesn't let that in on others. “I’m just thinking who to send in for battle. There’re aggressors on our next island.”

Ace perks up, holding a hand up high in sheer enthusiasm, now looking much like Lady Liberty on sugar rush.

“Not this time I’m afraid,” Marco watches the boy slump in disappointment. “Explosions and fire balls are not quite necessary for this one.”

“Cheh,” Ace pouts. He sees that coming but it’ll still be nice if he could test his new moves on something real. He’s not gonna let powering the engines be the only thing he’s good for.

Seeing that they’re going in the direction of their quarters, well, most everyone’s, he asks, “Are you heading back? Cause, the others are hanging out at the quarterdeck and they’re, kinda, waiting for you.” He’s not gonna mention what they’re secretly up to, of course.

Marco pauses in his footsteps and glances in the quarterdeck's direction. It's always good to hang out with the group but his father's words remain fresh in his mind. He is certain his lines between family and work aren't blurred, but, he does acknowledge that he has, perhaps, not quite given Ace enough personal attention.  “Do you have a moment?” He finally asks.

Ace blinks in anticipation, “I've got lots of moments.”

Marco smiles, “Let’s talk somewhere.”

A wide grin spreads across Ace's face. "Where??" He has clearly thrown the group's plot out the window.

Marco gestures towards the crow's nest, but before Ace can make any noise about it the other guy has flown his way up. 

"Aw man that's cheating," Ace grumbles, knowing he can't do the same without risking burning the mast altogether. He looks down at his bowl of chocolate and sighs. Reluctantly, he puts it away against a wall, thus freeing one hand and proceeds to make his way up the traditional way. "Wait up!"

Along the way he passes the guard on duty that, presumably, Marco has sent away. He shares with him some of his marshmallow sticks and finally arrives at the top moments later. It isn't easy to climb with a hand full of things.

"Why here?" Ace climbs over the nest and settles right beside Marco. 

Marco leans comfortably against the nest. "They won't find us here." 

"Am I… getting a reprimand??" Ace gulps. 

Marco can't help but chuckle at the boy's assumption. "No, I just wanted to ask how you're doing." 

"Oh," Ace blinks. "I’m good! I had a dish washing contest with Thatch earlier today.”

“I heard.” 

“Yeah… it was just for fun,” Ace half lies. “But I’m so never doing it again.” He stretches a hand to see if the wrinkles still remain.

“I have to agree that washing a thousand plates is a bad idea.”

“Hehe, I know right!” Ace grins the Luffy grin.

The contagious smile spreads on to Marco as he takes another stick from Ace’s hand. “It’s almost a year since you've been with us. Any regrets so far?”

Ace is tempted to mention the chocolate he left at the bottom, or losing the contest against Thatch, but he wants to be serious this time. It’s not every day that the phoenix invites him to a private chat.

“Joining this crew has been the best thing that’s happened to me. I love the stuff we do. It’s crazy but it’s fun! It’s different, this feeling. I had never imagined being in such a gigantic family,” he peers up into the night sky. “I wish I could introduce Luffy to everyone one day. And Dadan. And…” Okay gramps is out of the question.

Marco watches him quietly. “You miss them.” 

“I do,” Ace plays with his food a little, pinching one into smaller bits. “But I’m sure they’re fine. Dadan can be scary but that’s why she’s strong. Luffy… I suspect he’s the toughest idiot in East Blue.”

Marco smiles at Ace’s reminiscence, aware that Ace has only mentioned his background on a few occasions, and the first time he did it had been a sensitive note in regards to his father.

“But I’m glad to be here,” Ace continues. “I found Pops,” He pinches at his marshmallow some more. “and the others.” His fingers come to halt. “and you.” He shyly steals a look at Marco only to realize that the guy has been watching him the whole time, causing much of his blood to rise to his face. Out of reflex he quickly looks back at his food and shoves the little bits into his mouth, along with several other whole ones, attempting to busy himself.

Marco has never quite worried about Ace’s comfort here with them. Sure the boy can be a little rebellious sometimes, but he warms up to everyone fast. It also helps that he’s a poor liar and that he wears all his emotions on his face, like the little blush he’s currently trying to hide. Still, it’s good to hear it straight from him in his own words. Whitebeard would be pleased to know. “That’s a relief. Though I doubt the others would let you leave. They adore you.” 

Ace tenses up again, the red on his face not fading away any time. “…Do you..?”

“…?”

“I mean--!” Ace flusters. “Do you…“ He looks away, clearly nervous. “Is there… anyone you adore?”

Marco stays quiet, gazing at the fidgeting boy. It’s strange to be asked such a question. It reminds him of youth and high school, except most of them didn't actually go to one. He is, however, aware of Ace’s affection for him, though he admits it isn't something he has contemplated about.

Ace on the other hand seems to be regretting his question. He bites on his lip and focuses his attention on the very interesting sticks in his hands. _Thatch and Izou want to know. A promise is a promise. A man does not go back on his word._ This doesn't explain the anxiety he’s experiencing but he knows only to ignore it, even if in vain.

“Who’s asking?”

Ace feels a warm hand on his head, brushing his hair in a familiar comforting way. They do that to him a lot, pampering him because he’s the youngest member of the family. He doesn’t know if it’ll end when someone new comes along, but he doesn’t want it to. He doesn’t want Marco to stop pampering him.

Slipping into his thoughts, Ace closes his eyes and leans into the touch. Marco lets him be, quietly awaiting a response until Ace eventually slumps and his head lands on Marco’s shoulder.

“Ace?” Marco rubs a thumb against his scalp but the boy doesn't budge. He waits for a moment longer before he moves his hand to brush Ace’s bangs away from his eyes, only to find him peacefully asleep.

It can be unbelievable sometimes, but this is an endearing sight and a far better improvement than knocking out in the middle of dinner. With the smallest of movements, Marco leans his head against the board behind, closing his eyes and heaving a small sigh of relief. At least things can stay as they are a while longer.

\-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

At the quarterdeck, a frustrated Thatch storms off his stool. “Where the hell are those two?!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> A next sequel "365 Days Later" is added and can be viewed here:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5059087


End file.
